


Sucker

by BurntBeebs



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-22 16:38:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17666204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BurntBeebs/pseuds/BurntBeebs
Summary: Rick reevaluates his life choices.A drabble set in my original universe that I really should write more stuff for.





	Sucker

**Author's Note:**

> So this is just a thing I wrote one day that I liked enough to let stand on its own. It's part of a bigger series of original stuff I'm working on so if it seems like there's a lot of unexplained things going on, that's why. I just wanted to explore these two characters' relationship a bit. Please let me know if there's any wonky grammar or spelling going on. Enjoy~

If you called Rick Timothy Sawyer a sleazy scumbag, he’d be inclined to agree with you. The man was nothing more than a con artist, drifting his way from city to city, both for a shot at some scratch as well as to avoid the loan sharks out for his blood. He was a man who put up many walls, emotional and intellectual barriers. This was vital for his survival... to keep this up, one had to conceal their true intentions, hide their weakness.

He wasn’t sure how this happened, a short period passing through Ridgeport and he ended up face to waist with one of those ‘Otherians’, as they were called. Those strange beings from another dimension, different from humans, but only outwardly it seemed. There was a common bond with man, and they've apparently shared space since times as old as dirt.  
  
Even now, it seems further down south they were rubbing elbows with humans to the point it surprised no one to see these manbeasts there. Figures those NERFS spooks would keep secrets like this, down south in Mossburg was their main HQ after all. It was a bit of a shock how long they’d been walking among humans all this time. Of course, they were only forced to let this cat out of the bag when convenience demanded it. Typical.

But, he’d be a hypocrite to complain. They were two of a kind that way. Rick and NERFS both operated on duplicity, and so long as they stayed out of his business, they could keep playing gatekeeper for all he cared. The only worthwhile aspect to these monsters’ existence was in the potential for profit.

These inhuman visitors proved to be lucrative since they brought along a hobby that was a smash hit as a spectator sport. These creatures relished in gladiatorial combat, and it was no more damaging than sparring to them. Much more brutal than any other human sport, but these beasts were built to take a beating. It was violent, which always appealed to the masses, but more importantly, it was _fun_ to Otherians, and so there was no footing for moral outrage. It was _perfect._ There was so much money to be made in this business.

The biggest bruisers naturally were the superstars, the titans, and many people had taken to scouting them out when they emerged in the city, eager to cash in on the craze that had already came to be known as the NFWS, the National Federation of Wrasslin’ Superstars.  
  
Apparently the closest human word for wrestling was a very butchered in their tongue, but the chairman made do. Ridgeport was where the scene began, and it was the mecca for the sport. Perhaps he was drawn to this city for that reason. It was the glitz, the glamor, it was the fanciful thought that maybe, _just maybe_ he’d hit it big with one of these monsters, who would be all too eager to smash in a face for fun, and for _his profit._

Rick never was the type to be in the right place at the right time. No, in fact, it was quite the opposite. The man was a cosmic chew toy, plopping in at the worst possible moment in time.

Until now.

Wouldn’t you know it, he stumbled upon one of these Otherians in broad daylight, who stared down with a look in his three amber eyes like that of a lost puppy. What luck, maybe there was someone up there who liked him after all for him to be gifted with such a perfect grade A _Sucker_ . Literally, the shnozz on this one, it was definitely his most striking feature, and that was saying something considering the rest of his appearance.  
  
Larger than life, red and black and decked in spikes, the very picture of an imposing creature, and yet the big lug couldn’t speak a word of English, but those dopey eyes said everything. Either way, he had pressed the thing for a name, anything to help identify himself, eventually something that sounded like a buzz came out.

That wasn't very helpful...a quick glance around the street and he’d scrounged up the name Zedekiah Garrett, courtesy of the side of a bus and a barber shop window. Big red doof seemed delighted to have a human name, seemed this really was his first time out on Earth. Naturally Rick took him around, schmoozed him up a bit before introducing him to the NFWS scene. His eyes lit up like a furnace at that, ignited by an ember of the familiar, and he knew he had just hooked a lunker.

You could call Ricky T. Sawyer a dishonest man, and he’d disagree with you. There was pointed malicious obfuscation of the truth, and then there was looking out for one’s own best interests.

At least, that’s what he’d tell himself. He promised only the best to his new sucker, he'd be looking out for him! He'd make sure he wasn't taken advantage of (people around here were really eager to do that!)

The otherian never once doubted the validity of these promises...

They moved up quickly in the underground wrasslin rings, Zed was a powerhouse like Rick had so observantly predicted, but what he wasn’t anticipating was the fact that this creature oozed charisma. He was striking to humans, naturally, but it seemed there was something about him that his Otherian counterparts couldn’t resist. It didn’t take long at all for them to score several contracts in the big leagues, he had the raw brawn and star power to hold his own, but he didn’t want to make a move without his new manager’s say so.

He seemed totally free from the wiles of cash the contracts offered, as he seemed to thoroughly enjoy it for the sport itself, and the showmanship. The man was quite a ham. Even so, Rick thought best to play it safe and start by splitting their commissions equally, but eventually he mentioned managing all the work behind the scenes was very taxing in a different way, and not nearly as fun.  
  
Thus, it would only only he fair that he be properly compensated for all his hard work. Luckily for him, Zed agreed, and was more than happy to allow him to take however much a percentage as he wished. It was a ballsy move on Rick’s part, and that risk was rewarded with amiable deference. He shuddered to think of what would’ve come from pissing off someone with hands the size of his torso, and ones that could easily tear apart titanium walls, much more so fragile human flesh and bone.

Rick was unsure if Zed was just that nice, or if he really was stupid. Either way, lady luck was smooching his cheek with this one, because he was raking in the dough. Between counting piles of money and cheering his Cash cow on, Rick had taken to researching what might've made his sucker so special.

Turned out, Otherians were ranked in a way, it was a classification meant to make it easier in case of an emergency, and it was also info for anyone to take up at their leisure on the part of NERFS in an effort to bridge the gap between the two.  
  
The creatures had no care for being categorized in this way, as it was a fact to their existence, rules of nature, as it were. Zed was categorized as a ‘Berserker’, a high step up in their make compared to their peers. He had a lot of weight to throw around and a commanding presence that seemed to make other monsters want to fall in line, yet he was all too content to take orders himself. Seems Rick had imprinted the role of a commander on him, somehow...talk about a windfall.

He doesn’t know how it worked, or why it did, but somehow, he had a thousand pounds of pure destruction packed into an alarmingly large, vaguely humanoid shape wrapped around his finger. It almost made him uneasy, the muscle of several thousand horses rippling beneath a plush red veneer and disposition sweeter than a puppy.

Zed could break Sawyer like a twig if he so pleased, and sometimes he wondered if it was an act, and the three eyed mug was waiting and plotting when to strike, but those fears had a way of being quashed as soon as they materialized.

Luckily for Rick, Zed adored him, and wouldn’t lay a finger on him with the intent to harm. Other intentions, yes. There was a moment in time when Zed was unaware of just how much restraint he’d have to show in his new home, as he had no knowledge of human frailty.  
  
He’d bowled the conman over several times when he’d lean down to nudge him with his shoulders or bump him with his forehead. Or Rick's _favorite_ , rub his horns against him (not really, it would always muss up his perfectly styled hair, or sometimes they’d poke-). These were all a sign of affection among his kind, but Rick was never one for all that mushy stuff. And then there was the time Zed nearly broke every rib in his body when he scooped him up into a hug.

He wanted to be more angry at him for nearly killing him, and for a while, he was. He would give a cold shoulder, push away his head, and deny any neck scratches or shoulder rubs, but it just felt _wrong_. The big guy had been beside himself when he followed the ambulance to the hospital and when he found out just how much damage he had inadvertently caused. It was a learning moment, and perhaps it was better that it had been Sawyer than an adoring fan.

This and the fact he really did seem to regret what he had done, this made it a little hard to stay mad at him, or at least he told himself that’s what it was. Wasn’t right when the large ham was upset, his fans wouldn’t like seeing him sad.   

After that though, Zed was exceptionally delicate around humans, and especially so with his manager. Rick liked that. For some reason, it had eased any of the lingering doubt about whether or not he could be trusted.

He wasn't sure sure how it happened, but some time after that, a sense of trust did take root in him and he wasn’t exactly sure how to shake it. And with that arose the desire to maybe perhaps cut him back to an equal share in their paycheck...or maybe give him his due…

And he wanted to treat him more like a friend rather than just an asset. It started with little things, he’d visit him on days off, he’d bring him fruit and flowers to eat, the Sucker really liked coconuts for some reason, and he’d take him out around town (for business of course!), or simply just drop in to bum around with him.

During their first couple days together he would simply feign interest in the stories Zed would tell of his old home, but eventually it gave way to genuine investment in what he had to say. Apparently he had  ‘brothers’ out there somewhere, as he’d say in his almost unintelligible English, with tails twice as long and even more magnificent than his own, back when he had one, that is. In a scuffle with something called a _Mezor_ , he narrowly escaped an attack, but his tail was lopped off, reduced to the stump it was now. Surprisingly enough, it’s the one part of their body that _doesn’t_ regenerate. The fur (is it even fur?) doesn't even grow back either. Talk about a pity. He thought the stub tail was pretty cute though. He was certain fans would agree. Besides, longer tails are a liability in matches, as there's more to grab.

Rick wasn’t sure _when_ it happened, but enough talk from Zed urged him to talk back in kind, and he began to open up about his life, his past, his fears and secrets, basically whatever came to mind, and these were things he didn’t tell anyone, heck, these were things he didn’t even like to think about. It pissed him off thinking of just how much he’d spilled his guts out on that couch next to his prize fighter. Knowing someone could crush you like a grape if they didn’t like or trust you spoke volumes he supposed.  
  
That level of trust extended to a total stranger in a foreign world was beyond mere optimism, it was downright idiotic. Maybe it was all that faith he put in him, or the disarmingly transparent way he pours out every thought to the best his limited vocabulary can manage. Maybe it was the way he looked at him, he never saw anything but pure warmth in those amber orbs. He really was a big dumb puppy wrapped up in a gargantuan, sucker faced beast suit.

Rick was thoroughly convinced that if he asked him to, Zed would try to bring him a mountain. If he had the cold heart of a killer, he could probably sic him on the crime lords after him and he’d gladly oblige. Maybe _you are what you eat_ was a truer adage than he’d ever thought. He literally eats nothing but sugar, it’s no surprise Zed was a giant softy, or that he could think the world of someone like Rick.

That made one of them.

He couldn’t recall anyone who would give him the time of day, especially if they knew him for what he was. Zed’s seen all that and more, and it didn’t change a thing. He wasn’t the kind to front, because with him, you get exactly what you see, if you’re willing to look past physical appearances.

Rick was much the same way, or at least he’d like to think. He was beginning to think there was nothing to see in there, but this big dumb goof quickly convinced him otherwise. He supposed he didn’t have to be a slimy grifter forever, and now he did have an honest career to fall back on...

And speaking of, he actually wasn’t sure what he wanted out of life anymore. He had all the dosh he could possibly want, he had the luxury life he always dreamt of, he could _buy_ a trophy wife if he so desired, and yet, it all went ignored in favor of spending time with his Sucker.

And now here he was, once again unsure of how or why, standing before a high door in the front of a miniature condo at two a.m., three bleary amber eyes greeting him in the darkness. Though upon recognition they glimmered and curved upwards in a smile as he stepped aside to let him in. As he followed the hulking silhouette through the dark hall and toward a room, he stripped down to his YOM print boxers and well worn tank top, discarded clothes hitting the floor in time with the loud whump of the wrassler plopping back onto the mattress. The bed was a California King and yet still could hardly fit all of the galoot on it. 

Rick climbed up onto Zed’s stomach, mindful as always of the dull blades jutting from his ribs. He spread himself out comfortably on top of the plush, velvety fur, wiggling a bit to wedge himself in it further.

There was no rising or falling of Zed's chest or any other sign of breathing, and the only thrum of a heartbeat was Rick's own. Every now and then though he’d feel the soft whoosh beneath him of...whatever it was in there that kept Zed alive. What exactly it was, he'd often wonder. He wasn’t sure.

He was never sure anymore, he hardly ever knew what he was doing, and even now he wasn’t quite positive if he was dreaming in his own apartment, or if he really was here cuddling with what was supposed to just be his big dumb tool and meal ticket. Then he felt the soft tapping of something solid against his cheek, smelling strongly of flowers and coconut as always, and the lingering pollen tickled his nose...Zed lovingly booped him with his proboscis and Rick reached over and rubbed a spot on his neck that would earn a strange mix between a buzz and a purr. That assured him that he was here, and this was happening, and it wasn’t so bad.

He didn’t know when it happened, but at some point _he_ became the sucker.


End file.
